Unforgiving Silence
by MrNinjaFace
Summary: "For years, not a word. Not a single letter or sound made, nothing but silence. But the silence ends here. Our sins aren't watched, there's no gaze, just sins pilling up, and sneaking around the ones who watch for them." MY take on what would happen if a Boy of Silence went through the child experiments and brainwashing, etc, and stayed slightly normal, and finally showed a face.


**HEY guys! Now I know I haven't been very busy lately but FEAR NOT! Chapters on stories will be coming quite soon, I promise! But, to hold you guys off(Hopefully) until I come out with my new one-shot(Possibly more, if you guys like it enough), and my updates, here's this. This is gonna be a bit different, it is a one-shot, or it will be a bunch of one-shots jammed together. Now, I've always had a sort of fascination, you could say, with the Boys of Silence from Bioshock Infinite. Always so, eerie, creepy, yet strangely interesting.. I find myself wondering, ****_"Whats behind that helmet? Is it hideous? Disfigured? Or, somehow, preserved..." _****So, I decided to make a fanfic about it. Now, this is not based AT ALL, on internet knowledge, Youtube videos discussing the Boys of Silence, etc etc, just on my sick twisted imagination, and the thought of giving the hated, yet loved eerie faceless screeching haunter of Columbia a chance, and a happy bit. So ladies and gentlemen, I give you Unforgiving Silence.**

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_The things aren't human._ **Are they?**

_No, not anymore at least._ **But they were at some point.**

_It _can't_ be human._ **Are you sure?**

**~ . . . ~**

He stared at the "man" in front of him, the thing probably staring back through that ghastly "helmet" on it's head. The Boys of Silence. The one's of Columbia that never spoke a word, and the ones who's faces were never seen. Always shrouded in eerie mystery, people were scared- no, _terrified _of the things. No one ever knew who, or _what _they were, and avoided them no matter what, which usually wasn't that hard considering they were seen only at that dreaded Comstock House. Barely anyone ventured there, all in a matter of fear of the place. And yet, Booker Dewitt, was at Comstock House this very moment, staring into the helmet of the Boy of Silence, silently standing in front of him, staring him back. He had no idea why the thing had not gone mental like the others, or sounded the alarm yet. It confused him, and deep down, honestly frightened him a little. He always despised the things ever since he had to go to Comstock House.

He hadn't been there for very long, a good few hours at the most, yet he already hated the Boys with all is being. And yet here he was, not trying to attack the "creature" in front of him that would not move or make any "reaction" to his presence like the others. He pulled out his shotgun slowly, aiming it at the "man's" chest, finger on the trigger. He began to pull it, but then something made him stop dead, frozen, not believing what was happening. None of those horrifying "people" he encountered around the previous Boys of Silence that attacked him were nowhere to be found near this one, so he knew he wasn't mistaken by one of them. He slowly pulled his finger away from the trigger of his shotgun, lowering his arm back to his side, eyes wide at what he was hearing. _Crying. _He heard the Boy, crying inside that helmet. IT confused him, unsettled him, and downright horrified him. They were called _The Boys of "Silence!" _So how was this Boy, crying inside that dreaded helmet. He wanted to find out, but the other half of him dreaded, revolted at the thought, begging him to just shoot the Boy and continue on, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He sighed, thinking he was insane for what he was about to do, he revved up his Skyhook, slicing off the heavy padlock that sealed the helmet, the Boy abruptly ending his nearly silent sobs, looking startled. Booker reached forward, undoing the leather straps holding the thing in place any longer. He grabbed the helmet, slowly pulling it off, then dropping it on the ground, looking at the face of something that was never witnessed without a helmet, and was always faceless.

What he saw, was nothing he expected. IT was the face of a man, probably in his early twenties, with tattered brown hair turned almost a light brown-white with dust. His face looked, normal. He wasn't disfigured, nothing like that... Then, the Boy spoke: "Years... For years, not a word..." His voice sounded dry, scratchy, and hoarse, like it hadn't been used for years and years. "Everyone, the hatred, the experiments... I wanted it to end, for someone to help me... Thank you." Booker said nothing for a moment, before replying an emotionless, "Your welcome." The Boy spoke again, "I was always different. I endured the experiments, and went through the brainwashing.. I could never do anything though. All I could do is do what they said and hope one day someone different would help me.." He smiled for a moment. "And I guess that day has come.. I thank you sir.. And good luck for what you hope to gain ahead." The Boy stood up straighter, walking right past Booker. Booker turned, looking at the Boy strangely. "Wait- where are you going?" The Boy didn't answer, and just kept walking, yet Booker could faintly hear before the Boy went out of ear shot, "No gaze watches our sins, our sins just sneak by."

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**YES, SHORT I KNOW, BUT I WAS KINDA IN A HURRY SORRY, HOPE YOU ENJOY, R&amp;R, CYA!**


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